Double Rainbow
by Avoline Malfoy
Summary: "If they had ever found out that a mentor had feelings for a tribute, they would kill that tribute on the spot." RATED M FOR LANGUAGE, MY FIRST TRY AT HAYNISS, PLEASE BE GENTLE.


_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

* * *

_And now I'm on a Hunger Games kick. Why do I keep getting swept into different fandoms?_

_Anyway, I'm almost done with Mockingjay, and this has been swirling in my head for a while. Why, I'll never know, but I've got a soft spot for everyone's favorite mentor, Haymitch Abernathy. And I honestly think he and Katniss, despite the age difference, make a lovely, albeit chaotic, couple._

_This is partly based on Double Rainbow by Katy Perry. I love that song._

_So, here's my try at some Hayniss. Be gentle, please._

_Do sit back and enjoy!_

_Love always,_

_Avoline_

* * *

I sat on the ash-covered chair, wishing that 13 had not forced me into sobriety. Too many memories, most of which I don't want to face, not without something to distort them. I tried to keep my breathing even, but was failing. Miserably.

Is this what Katniss would have become? A lonely drunk with nothing but memories to keep her company? I ran my hand through my hair as the images I had been avoiding started floating before me. Yep, Katniss would have been in the same boat.

But I stopped it. Gale, Peeta, Plutarch, and me. We all stopped this from becoming Katniss's future.

So how was it I didn't have friends like that when I was in her position?

I took a deep, shaky breath. Gale and Peeta weren't even born then. Plutarch couldn't have known that Snow would do that. Hell, no one thought anything of it. A victor for 12 was something to celebrate. And celebrate I did.

I simply had the misfortune of underestimating Snow's hatred for 12.

I heard the door open. An almost silent tread.

Katniss.

No. I can't face her. Not like this. Not when I'm slowly becoming the mess I was twenty-six years ago.

Not when my emotions were getting the better of me.

She would see. I couldn't let that happen. It was wrong, so wrong. She was half my age, could easily be my daughter. I'm suppose to be her mentor and nothing more. I'm suppose to help her survive and that's it!

And yet, I still find a way to fuck it up.

Sure, she survived. Hell, I actually brought home two Victors.

Now, one is the cruelest person ever, and the other is heartbroken, and basically alone.

All because I got her out and not him. I should have gotten him out too. Maybe then, we would still have Peeta, the boy with the bread. Not Peeta, the boy with the warped memories and more hatred than even I could muster. But it wasn't what to Capitol did to Peeta that cut me like a knife.

It was the hurt in her eyes.

"Haymitch," she calls softly. I lifted my head just enough to see her standing in the doorway to the den.

I can't do this. I can't face the pain that's so clear on her face. It mirrors mine too perfectly. She should have never had to go through that.

But I can't turn her away. Even though I should, for her own good. I can't tell her no, not when she turns to me every time. Not when I'm the only one who could possibly understand anymore. I can't make her deal with it on her own.

I can't face the ache in my chest if I did.

"What's wrong, sweetheart," I ask. I know it had to be something to do with everything. Peeta, Gale, Primrose.

Prim. She was so young and gentle. She could have easily been my little brother. I'm not sure who was more upset: Katniss at loosing her little sister, her mother as loosing a daughter, or me because, despite everything I did, Katniss lost someone she care about yet again.

I smashed everything I touched. I was so angry, at the Capitol, at the war, at myself. It was history repeating itself, and it was my fault.

"Haymitch, what I going to do," she nearly sobs. My head snaps up at her voice. What did that damn boy do this time? Did he insult Prim? Wouldn't be the first time, but it must have been bad if she's this hurt over it.

That's when I see the tears.

"Gale's gone. He might as well be dead, considering how much he hates me now. Peeta can't stand me. And Prim..." Her eyes slam shut, and I can't stop myself from getting up and pulling her as close to me as I could.

Why do I do this to myself? She's too young, and deserves so much better. Yet I want her by my side until the day I die, and I know it's selfish, but I just can't care anymore. Not after everything she's been through, not after the number of times she turned to me for comfort.

"It's okay, sweetheart," I sooth, trying to make her pain just go away. Seeing her like this was enough to break me. What would it take to make her whole again? "It's okay. You've still got so many that care. So many."

Like me. I want so badly to tell her, but I don't. She would never speak to me again if I did.

Maybe it would have been easier to turn her away. At least until I could find some liquor.

"Haymitch, what's wrong?"

Huh? What is she talking about?

Oh shit. My thoughts must have gotten the better of me. I touch my face and find it dripping. Have I been crying? Something I haven't done since Prim was killed.

At least, not in front of the Mockingjay.

But I'm not standing here with the Mockingjay. I'm standing with Katniss Everdeen, the girl who just about lost everything. Her sister, her boyfriend, her best friend, and her father.

"It's nothing," I lie, but when I look into her Seam grey eyes, I know she doesn't buy it.

"Haymitch, what are you not telling me," she demands. I sigh and turn away, going to flop down on that dusty old chair again.

"This is why I stayed drunk," I confess, figuring it can't get any worse. "The memories are too much. And then to see history basically repeat itself..." I take a deep breath and meet her gaze. "Katniss, I tried to protect you. I tried to save you from the same fate I suffered." I shake my head and look away. "I failed. Yeah, you survived the games, but I couldn't protect you afterwards." I bite my tongue and drop my head in my hands. Don't let her see. Don't let her know how much you care.

Don't let her see what she does to me.

"Haymitch, what exactly did Snow do to you," she questions, sitting on the floor in front of me. I can't even look at her as I relieve that day.

It hadn't even been two weeks since I was crowned Victor of the fiftieth Hunger Games. I had went into town, my girl beside me, to get some stuff for my mom. It was my little brother's birthday, and so far, everything was great.

Then I came home.

Mom was dead. A bullet to the head. I screamed for my brother, but found him dead in his room. I was already close to hysterical when I heard her scream. I bolted for the kitchen, but she wasn't there. She screamed again, this time my name. I ran outside, and there he was. President Snow, and an army of Peacekeepers behind him.

One had a gun aimed at her head.

I begged. I bargained. I did everything I could think of, but Snow just stood there, glaring at me. I was about as low as I could get. What more did he want?

They shot her, right in front of me. I ran to her body, not caring if they shot me or not. But no, they would never directly harm a Victor. They would simply make an example of him.

They left me there, in the street, alone and holding on the her.

My hands are shaking now. She can't know how scared I still am. She's still here, still alive. But if she knew why, if she knew that my fear isn't fueled by that day.

I don't even want to know what she would think.

"Oh, Haymitch," she murmurs. God dammit. I must have said everything about that day out loud. Her small hands are gripping mine, and it feels so right, yet I know it's so wrong.

But now that I've started, I can't stop.

"I thought, when I got you and Peeta out of there, that it would all be better," I whisper. "But now he's basically gone, and I don't know if I can loose you too."

Now I've done it.

"What do you mean," she inquires.

"I mean just that," I answer, my voice rising as I meet her stare. "Katniss, you have become more than the tribute, more than the girl I mentor. You have become my every thought, the motive behind everything I do, and as wrong as it is, I couldn't stop myself until it was too late. I know it's wrong. For fuck's sake, you could be my daughter, but I can't help it."

She's confused. But there's not disgust.

Instead, I see a flicker of hope.

"Why do you think I barely sent anything during those first Games? I had to be careful, I had to hide it. If they knew that a mentor had feelings for a tribute, they would kill that tribute on the spot. I couldn't let that happen."

"Haymitch, are you trying to say you love me?" I take a deep breath, trying to find the words to explain it to her.

I do love her. I love her so much, and I wish it was that simple. I could feel it when she was in pain after Seneca Crane tried to burn her to death in the seventy-fourth. I felt it when she kissed Peeta, and I wished it were me. I felt it when they announced that the seventy-fifth would be composed of former Victors, and all I could think was "I'll loose her forever."

The feelings only grew stronger when she became the Mockingjay. When she ran straight to the fight in 8. When she was nearly choked to death by the boy she trusted most aside from that oaf Gale. When she went to the Capitol, and they declared her dead.

That was the second worst day in my life.

I held it together in front of everyone else, but as soon as I made it to my compartment, I trashed anything that wasn't bolted down. I destroyed my living quarters, not caring if I got punished for it. I wanted my living space to reflected how I felt inside. Like a fucking waste land.

But when they couldn't find a body, I felt the hope grow. The hope she had placed when she jammed that knife in the table on the train. I felt it again, and I prayed to whatever god would listen that she would survive.

Then Primrose died. I knew I would loose her for a while. She would become mentally disoriented for a while. I never expected her to stop talking.

I had to walk away then. I couldn't take it.

But now she's here. Mentally, emotionally, physically here. She's scarred, and she'll never look or be the same, but she's still the person who stole my heart.

"I don't think love is quite a strong enough word," I reply, my hands still trembling. Where's the goddam liquor when you need it? "Katniss, every time I think I might loose you or have lost you, I'm a wreck. If you had only been here when they read the card for the seventy-fifth. I smashed the bottle in my hand as hard as I could, cause all I could think was that you wouldn't stand a chance." She give me look that tells me to just spit it out already. "Katniss, you have consumed every thought, every moment since that day on the train. I know I haven't been the kindest person to you, but if you'll just give me a chance, I can be-"

Her lips are on mine, silencing me, and I nearly sob at how she doesn't seem to care. She doesn't care that I'm over twice her age. She doesn't care that I'm broken and useless to anyone.

All she cares about is this moment. And so do I.

"Katniss," I breath as the kiss comes to an end.

"It's wrong, I know, but no one else understands," she begins. "I just don't feel the connection to anyone like I do you. You know my every move before I even think of it, and we really are so much alike, and, oh, Haymitch, I was so scared that you wouldn't even think of me that way." I manage a laugh and cup her face in my hands, which have finally stopped the damn shaking.

"Oh, sweetheart, how could I not? When you've become my everything. My heart, my soul, my hope for a happy life again. Just don't leave my side. Please, don't leave my side again." Her lips are on mine again, calming me, letting me know that, whatever time I have left, I'll always have her by my side.

"Always," she whispers. "We're like a double rainbow."

"And a double rainbow is hard to find."


End file.
